They're Not Mine. Still.

Thank You To Dani For Being My Beta On This Story. :D

Every day, Buffy would sit, staring, quite obviously, at the boarding passengers as she waited for Him.

She would wait anxiously for the first glimpse of those tall brown spikes he wore his hair in, and her heart would flutter as he came more clearly into view. Quickly, she would look Him over, noting every last detail she could, before looking away as fast as she could, usually with a beat red blush, and stare out of the window of the bus as she mentally drooled over the picture He had made.

That He always made.

He'd only caught her a few times, quite some time ago now, but she was rather sure he knew what she was up to. That is, if he even gave a second thought to her. But it still managed to embarrassed her to no end.

It didn't exactly get her to stop though. But at least he hadn't called her on it or anything.

Yet.

She wasn't anywhere near the World's Best Driver, so Buffy depended on public transportation and on her friends, if need be. And the first time she'd noticed him, the bus became her number one option.

He, whoever He was, shared the bus with her almost every day on her way back home. It was the highlight of her every day, the second half of the ride home when he would join the ride.

He almost always took the first avaliable seat, while she, on the otherhand, stuck to the ones closer to the back, but close enough to the front to watch out for Him.

She had every intention to only watch him from a distance, anywhere besides in her every last fantasy, that was. The closest she ever got to him was when she'd have to pass his seat to get off, which was usually the most stressful part of her day.

Forget school, forget any family or friend drama, forget her part time job. No. Those few, very short moments were almost too hard to handle.

She would stand with shaky legs and do her best to hurry past him and out the door, without tripping or falling of course. So far, God had been on her side with that. She would avoid any eye contact with him or anyone else, her eyes stayed low and to the ground, her mind would race and she would try to just tell herself to get off and away then she could breathe again.

But it was worth it.

He was like some dark mysterious God, one who dressed up like a suit and rode a city bus, but a God nonetheless.

He was quite tall, his hair making him even taller, not to mention just the dark presence he had about him. His hair was a dark brown and his eyes matched beautifully. She could easily tell he worked out alot, and was sure that would be a better sight to see without all of his stuffy suits. He was graceful and beautiful.

He was a little less tanned then a guy his age, or, well, his assumed age of around twenty-five or twenty-six, in California. Thinking about it though, she realized she was staring to become the same way as her life became busier and busier. She decided she liked it though, made him.. she didn't know what, but more of something to her.

Besides sitting in the first avaliable seat, looking absolutely delicious and dressed in a designer suit, she also noticed a few other regular habits and things about the man as time progressed.

Like, for example, if he'd looked more stressed than usual, he would pull out a portable ceedee player and headphones once he sat down. Those days were usually earlier in the week.

He wore expenisve suits, shoes and ties. His ties were nothing that special she supposed, but fascinated her all the same. She soon began to notice his weird pattern of the week with them she spent so much time on it. His shirts she was still working on, right now she just knew she had a list of her favorites.

On the days where he didn't pull out his ceedee player, he would instead just sit there, contempt. He never pulled out a cell phone, beeper or pager. He never pulled out random things from his briefcase or occasional black bag, no snacks, nothing to drink, no laptop, no book or newspaper or magazine..

He would always politetly ask if it were alright for him to sit beside whoever and make small talk for a moment, sometimes longer if he'd ended up with a chatty person. He never seem to mind either way though.

He had a nice set pattern, one she was slowly learning about and discovering she had on of her own as well.

Today, however, it was all about to be disrupted.

Buffy heard someone clear their throat as she stared out the window. Her forehead was leaning slightly on it, enjoying the cool feel of it to her heated flesh, as she burned the image of her mysterious man into her head.

She gently lifted it up and turned to see whoever it was who wanted her attention. And she sat wide eyed and shocked as she saw who exactly it turned out to be.

Him.

'Oh, my, Jesus Christ!'

"Excuse me, Miss, is this seat taken?"